


Repenting at Leisure

by fennui (paperweight)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 03:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11245476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperweight/pseuds/fennui
Summary: Neither of them had had the best of days.





	Repenting at Leisure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kiertorata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiertorata/gifts).



> **Prompt:** Blaise/Neville - undeniable attraction, meet cute 
> 
> I'd never heard the term 'meet cute' before, but I wanted to give it a go.

Neville stood at the hotel reception desk looking and feeling utterly defeated. He was hungry, he was thirsty, he was exhausted, he was bruised all over an oozing in several places and he was filthy. He probably stank. He had to his name the boots he swayed in, the clothes on his back (tattered), his samples case which had seen better days (yesterday, for example), a small satchel containing one change of (unlaundered) clothes, his passport and his emergency galleons. His wand was at the bottom of a very deep ravine along with all his other travelling gear and his pride.

“I’m sorry, er, Mr Longbottom,” the officious receptionist looked Neville up an down as though he did not deserve even so modest a title, “we’re fully booked.”

“But I have a reservation!” he protested. “I booked months ago. I’m here for the conference.”

The receptionist gave him another disdainful look. Clearly his unfortunate appearance was doing Neville no favours, here. “Look, I realize that right now I’m not exactly looking my best and I’m sorry about that, honestly, you have no idea how sorry, but surely there’s something you could offer me. I’ll take just about anything,” Neville pleaded.

The receptionist looked vaguely sympathetic for just a brief moment, then, smiling brightly, he added, “I can direct you to the local hostel, _they_ might be willing to take you in.”

Neville shook his head. Gingerly. He doubted his ears would ever stop ringing. Then he sighed and raised a hand to run his fingers through his hair, but found he had to abort the move when his shoulder gave a warning twinge.

Just as he was about to … well, he didn’t really know what. Slump into a pitifully dejected heap on the floor, probably. Just as he was about to do that he heard a familiar voice and before he could think better of it he turned towards it.

~*~

Blaise, unlike his mother, didn’t intend to marry more than once, so all things considered it had probably being a bad idea to marry in such haste. Not that it felt like haste at the time (5 hours ago). It had come after a whirlwind three month romance with a staggeringly good looking, rich, successful, talented, pureblood (naturally), wizard he’d met in charmingly amusing circumstances that involved a masked ball, a revolving door, some mis-matched sleep wear and the Night Bus. But it had all come to an abrupt end just four-and-a-half hours after the I do’s had been said, and just 20 mins before they were due to portkey to their honeymoon destination.

His beau had been discovered in flagrante delicto with his business partner. A rather ‘well appointed’ witch with an unfortunately braying laugh. The laugh being the reason for their discovery in such an intimate position by Blaise and several honoured guests. Of course, due to a well placed curse by Blaise they were definitely no longer laughing and would likely be stuck in that rather unfortunate position for quite some time to come.

Having gone ahead and portkeyed to his chosen honeymoon destination at the appointed time regardless, Blaise, still in his wedding robes and carrying only his deceptively small valise, was stood in the lobby of his hotel wondering what to do next. No one knew where he was because he’d booked the honeymoon secretly as a surprise and no one here knew who he was because he booked in the name Zail B. Bainise. He could have a nicely anonymous two week holiday whilst the drama played itself out and his lawyer drew up papers for an annulment, but did he really want to check into the honeymoon suite? On reflection taking his painstakingly planned perfect honeymoon alone as a farewell fuck you to his cheating groom didn’t sound all that jolly.

As he was being directed to the check in desk by the concierge, he noticed some kind of tramp actually trying to negotiate a room. Here. In the most exclusive hotel on the island! Seeing this he began to ask the concierge for directions to the local flue, but just then the tramp turned around and Blaise stopped short.

“Longbottom!”

~*~

“Blaise!” Good grief, this was all he needed. The cherry on top of his already spectacularly no good, very bad, terrible day. To have his humiliation witnessed by the gorgeous, suave and aloof Blaise Zabini, who was currently looking incredibly put together in some of the most flattering dress robes the wizarding world had ever seen, was just too much. Nevertheless, Nevile pulled himself up as tall and straight as he could manage and waited for the inevitable amusingly sardonic bon mot.

~*~

Blaise, for his part, was momentarily thrown. Blown was his anonymity before he’d even checked in! Here he was face to face with a damned Gryffindor. Gone was any hope of finding somewhere to sit out the next two weeks quietly whilst drowning his sorrows in footloose, skimpily clad holiday makers and fire whiskey. On the other hand, at least he hadn’t run into a fellow Slytherin. No one could rub in misfortune quite like one of his former house mates. Then he realized that this was Neville Longbottom the most quietly noble and self deprecating of all Gryffindors, and it was he, not Blaise, who was currently the one at the greatest disadvantage. If he played his cards right, Longbottom, a rising star in a field closely related to Blaise’s own, would owe him big. He was also, under all that dried slime, really rather hot. Tall, nicely muscular …

“There you are, darling!” Blaise found his mouth two steps ahead of his brain. “We’re booked under the name ‘Bainise’, don’t you remember?” Blaise flashed Neville his most winsome smile, before turning and bestowing his most disarming one* on the receptionist, who, trained professional that he was, faltered but a moment before saying, “Ah, yes, here we are, the … um … honeymoon suite.” There was the merest hint of question intonation and his returning smile was a bit wobbly round the edges, but otherwise he showed quite impressive composure.

*ie it was a smile that would make a hardened hit wizard wet themself, drop their wand, turn tail and run.

~*~

Ten minutes later, uncertain of the linking steps, Neville found himself inside the most decadent bathroom he’d ever seen. On the other side of the door he could hear the smooth, cultured tones of one Blaise Zabini giving orders to their steward, but most of his awareness was fixed on the shower. He shed his tattered clothes and stepped into the stall. The scented water came on immediately and was exactly the right temperature and pressure. It was glorious.

After his shower, noting that his tattered clothes had disappeared, he donned a complimentary robe and ventured out into the sumptuously appointed honeymoon suite. Blaise was sat at a dining table set for two contemplating the amber liquid in his tumbler.

Neville cleared his throat and Blaise looked up and invited him to sit. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like so I just ordered you the gourmet burger and fries.”

Neville was so hungry by this point he could have eaten boiled boots and so in response he simply tucked in. As he ate, Blaise said, “I took the liberty of sending your clothes, both sets, to be laundered. Though a pyre might have been more appropriate for the ones you had on. They’ll be returned by morning and then at least you’ll have something to wear whilst we get you something more appropriate.”

“Appropriate?” Neville was still a little dazed.

“To be seen in with me.”

“With you?”

“Yes, ‘with me’. Goodness, I had thought you sharper than this.”

“But why would I be seen with you?”

“Because you’re my stand in spouse, obviously. Do keep up, Longbottom.”

“But I’m here for the three day Herbology conference, I can’t—”

“Naturally. I didn’t marry a useless dolt.”

“Um… but, er, why would you need a ‘stand in spouse’?”

Blaise rolled his eyes and slightly shook his head in a sort of why me gesture and replied, “Because mine had to stay behind with his business partner”. (Well, it was true). “And staying in the honeymoon suite alone would be such a bore. Anyway, how did you come to be in such a state?”

Neville suspected that the change in topic was as much about Blaise avoiding discussion of his own circumstances as it was about discovering Neville’s, but Neville chose to answer anyway. It was only fair.

“I was taking a few days in the forest to gather some rare plant samples when my frankly clueless guide disturbed a nest of cockatrice. We lost most of our possessions, including my wand, during our flight from the creatures. We barely made it out of the forest with our lives.”

“Gosh. Well, at least you had the good fortune to run in to me in the lobby.”

Poor Neville was suffering from rapid onset drowsiness and before he could think how to respond he found himself being competently maneuvered under the covers of the four poster bed as Blaise said, “Sweet dreams, Longbottom. You could definitely benefit from some beauty sleep.”

As he sunk through the brain fog into sleep it occurred to him to wonder were Blaise was going to sleep, but the question was answered by a dip on the other side of the bed just as he lost consciousness.

~*~

Neville awoke to the scent of fresh brewed coffee and warm pastries, carried in on a cool breeze through the open doors to their private balcony. As he lifted his head off the pillow to look, Blaise said, “Good morning, sleepyhead. Your cleaned clothes are at the end of the bed. Join me when you’re dressed and we’ll go through our itinerary.”

 _‘Itinerary?’_ thought Neville, though he didn’t voice the question as he wasn’t sure he was quite awake enough just yet. Instead he dressed and went to join Blaise for breakfast. Which was both welcome and delicious.

~*~

Blaise’s itinerary turned out to cover the next two weeks (a slight concern for Neville as he was expected back home in one) and to be both comprehensive and concise. It was a thing of beauty. Even Hermione would have been impressed. For that day it included a pre-conference check in appointment with a wandwright to get Neville a new wand, a lunchtime visit from (not to) a tailor to take Neville’s measurements for new clothes, and a post first day of conference visit to a massage therapist before a short nap and then dinner at the island’s most exclusive restaurant. For the following evening Blaise had even scheduled a dance lesson for them both so that they wouldn’t embarrass themselves at the conference’s goodbye evening soiree.

Neville was very grateful about not having to turn up for that alone, because his ex was going to be there with her accomplished beefcake of a husband. Neville felt himself relax for the first time for days. There was something enormously liberating about having someone else organize you down to the colour of your underwear. (It turned out Blaise had very definite opinions on such matters.) Neville decided there and then to send a message home as soon as possible to say he was extending his stay.

**Author's Note:**

> 'Zail B. Bainise' is of course an anagram of 'Blaise Zabini'. I chose it because ~~it's the best I could do quickly~~ I know someone called 'Zale' (and it sounded like the sort of name Blaise would like) and because according to a wiktionary article I found '[Bainise](https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/bainis#Irish)' could mean _wedding, wedding feast_! It seemed appropriate.


End file.
